


All Songs can be Modified in this Way!

by Agraulis_vanillae



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bar, Drinking, Hangover, Morning, Rescue, drugged, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agraulis_vanillae/pseuds/Agraulis_vanillae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake up in the morning with no recollection of what happened the night before. Fortunately, you're in good hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Songs can be Modified in this Way!

When you woke up from your stupor, you were cotton-mouthed and hungover, not to mention your arms were sore and tingling from sleeping on them. You moved gingerly, growing more and more aware of your surroundings.

Right.

You went drinking at Grillby's, typing away on the miniature laptop that you kept in your backpack which was..? Where? Oh, still underneath the bar, although you could sworn you stashed it in the barstool underneath you and not off to the side. The place looked empty too, and you started wondering what on earth happened. The lights were closed and the place was softly illuminated by the morning light from outside the windows. You might be a lightweight, but you weren't 2 drinks light, or at least, that was the count you could remember landing on before your memory fogged. The intensity of your hangover simply didn't make sense, and neither did passing out at Grillby's.

Speaking of the devil, you slid off the barstool to investigate the area and figure out what exactly had happened. It wasn't like Grillby to close up the place with anyone still inside, and you were passed out basically right were he would stand to work. Another detail that didn't make sense, you preferred to sit off to the corner at the other side of the bar from where your stuff was set. How'd you end up passed out in the middle seat? You made your way to the back of the bar, being sure to wrap your arms around yourself to prevent any accidental destruction, since the back of the bar was clearly surrounded by glass knockers and booze bottles. Grillby wasn't there, though you weren't exactly sure you expected him to be, and you backed out from behind the bar.

Your head throbbed as you grew even more concerned. Would you be able to get out of here? Why can't you remember anything that happened outside of actually arriving to Grillby's? Your search was put on hold when you noticed a piece of paper laying flat on the ground. You crouched, mindful of how bad you felt, and picking up the paper, you used the table next to you to push yourself back into a standing position.

“Water and aspirin is in the back. Feel free to fetch yourself a glass and sleep as needed. -Grillby”

Feeling better emotionally, you stepped in the kitchen half of the bar, easily spotting the bottle of aspirin next to the sink. The kitchen was laid out spaciously enough, with a few different doors that probably led the way to a pantry or maybe some other part of the bar you weren't aware of. The food smells that lingered from last night that would normally make you hungry, made you feel nauseous instead. You got a glass of water, and emptied it, then poured it again, feeling the acidity in your stomach dilute and your mouth reconstitute. Then down went the second glass of water, this time with a pill, and you retreated back to the front of the store, to lay your head down at one of the booth's tables.

Breathing. In and out. Head throbbing. A few minutes later, an old tune started drifting through your head, and you chuckled darkly, singing under your breath,

“Booze hurts, booze scars, booze wounds and mars. Booze hurts... oooh booze hurts. Some fools speak of happiness, foreverness, and tenderness. Some fools fool themselves I guess, but they're not fooling me. I really drank a lot, really drank a lot... booze is like a fire, the burns sting a whole lot.”

In crooning your misery to yourself, you hadn't noticed a yawning Grillby enter into the picture. He had stopped to watch you bemusedly, “...I wouldn't blame your drinking habits for last night.”

You moaned a little to yourself, and then mustered up some volume in your voice, “Mornin' Grillby. What happened? I've been dying to know, like seriously. I don't think ever woke up this bad off before.”

You jumped a little bit when you felt intense heat on the back of your head, and then relaxed as Grillby patted soothingly. It wasn't unusual for any of the monsters in the bar to show you this sort of affection per say, but you weren't used to it from him. Then again, you've never seen him out of his self-designated station before, or the bar closed. So there was a lot of firsts.

“... someone slipped you rohypnol while you were buried in your work.” Grillby told you quietly, “Lesser Dog sniffed it out while you were leaving with someone, and long story short, Sans retrieved you while the ex-Royal Guard dogs took care of the one responsible.”

You allowed the story to process, and grimaced. “I owe those guys big time. They really saved me...”

Grillby nodded, and you expected him to stay silent, but he didn't. “____, this may be none of my business, but you need to pay more attention to your surroundings. Someone as young as you cannot afford to be so reckless, that may have ended much worse than it did. Don't ever leave your drink unattended again.”

You looked at him, somewhat abashedly and awed. “Grillby, are you parenting me?”

He crossed his arms, and his flames crackled indignantly, “... What if I am? I have a daughter just a little younger than you. I'm allowed to parent.”

You dropped your head back into your arms and giggled at the absurdity of the situation. You were being parented by a living fire that was also your bartender. Excellent.

You could feel him petting the back of your head again, gently. You let yourself enjoy the contact, and little by little your headache ebbed to a dull roar, “Next time those guys come in here, give them a round of their usual on me, will ya? I really really need to thank them, but I'm too punchy to come back tonight.”

“I think the dogs will just be happy to hear your appreciation, though Sans will enjoy the free meal,” Grillby seemed to nod to himself. “... allow me to lock up, and I will escort you home.”

How many people can claim their bartender takes care of them like this? Feeling luckier than you had waking up, you swore to yourself that you were going to leave $20 tips for him for at least the next 5 orders.

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up typing this real quick in a haze after drinking too much over the weekend. Still my own misery aside, I thought maybe some unwelcome advice might be in order for February? That aside, I've got a bunch of skelly fluff in order, so take the cautionary tale for the moment and I should have something for y'all by the weekend. If you guys want to see some more of Grillby, just let me know in the comments, I know there is a startling lack of Grillby around here.


End file.
